Cold Fingers
by Lover's-Lament
Summary: [The Pianist] What if Wladyslaw Szpilman had a younger sister? What if she was to be pulled out from the line along with him, whether on purpose or by accident? Would things have happened the same? Better than it sounds, I hope.


**The Pianist**

**Title: Cold Fingers**

**Summary: What if Wladyslaw Szpilman had a younger sister? What if she was to be pulled out from the line along with him, whether on purpose or by accident? Would things have happened the same?**

**Author's Notes: Hey, I realise that the real Szpilman had no younger sister. He had no family that survived the war. I have read the book, I know. I just felt like doing this anyway. Because yeah. I'm curious as to how my mind will play it out. Okay? Okay.**

* * *

Death. The word was on everybody's lips as they sat, waiting for the trains that would take them away to the 'labour camps' to arrive. It may not have been uttered, for fear of cursing themselves and making death a reality, but it was there on everybody's minds. Were the trains that were to arrive at any moment our transportation to the Next World? I didn't know what to think, as I held a tiny piece of caramel in my hand, looking at it, my stomach overturning at the thought of eating it. 

I looked around at my family, each looking at their piece of caramel in a similar fashion. My mother, newfound grey in her hair, her dress wrinkled, her face having been gradually lined as stress and poor conditions had aged her speedily. Father, sitting on his violin case, putting away the little pocket knife he had used to cut the already small caramel into seven equal pieces for all of them. Meanwhile Henryk, Halina and Regina looked around at all of us, as if waiting for the unspoken signal to eat what might be our final decent bit of food for a long time. Finally, directly to my right, there was Angelika, who hadn't even picked up her piece from the little piece of paper it had been wrapped in. It sat on her right knee, innocent looking and waiting for its time to be eaten slowly, savoured. She sat extra-close to me, practically touching, looking to me as her protector. It had always been like that. Always.

* * *

1938. The war hadn't started, the occupation hadn't begun, and the ghetto had yet to be created. Although quiet rumours were beginning to circulate that the Germans were getting ready to invade Poland, nobody really believed them. I still went and played at the Polish Radio Station every day, playing Chopin and other beautiful pieces of music on the piano. I'd come home and eat dinner with the family, laughing and sharing stories of the day. None of us even considering the possibility that war was on the horizon. 

Angelika was only twelve then, still a child practically, but considering how Henryk and her argued, you'd think that either he was also twelve, or that she was nearing thirty. Angelika was always quiet, and perhaps that was what had always provoked Henryk to poke fun at her. See what would push her buttons and get her to finally speak, even if it was to yell across the table at him, and see what would provoke her to kick his shins under the table when company was over. It always started innocently enough, with a casual (albeit snide) remark, about her shoes perhaps, or whatever English work she was working on. Then it would escalate to her hair, or her teeth. Henryk almost always ended up saying something so nasty that it sent Angelika running to her bedroom in tears. That would also end up with me arguing with Henryk, trying to get him to go apologise and not succeeding. It sometimes took days, even weeks to convince Angelika to forgive Henryk. He would try and keep Henryk from being mean to her, and to me, for at least a little while.

Angelika would sit and listen to me while I worked on my compositions, and never interrupted me, seeming to just wordlessly understand when I was deep inside my piano, not worrying about the outside world and it's pitiful problems. Although both of us rarely spoke more than what was necessary, we seemed to communicate in a way that could not be described in mere words. When she needed help with her studies, it was not to Mama or Papa that she went, or even to Halina or Regina. She had always come to me for everything, even as a very small child. The reasons were never clear, except that perhaps, at some point when she was a baby, I'd held her some special way and said something that had imprinted an inexplicably strong subconscious memory on her tiny mind. Whatever the reason, it was always 'Wladyk!' that was her call for aid, when she scraped her knees, when her feelings were hurt…I was her protector, able to soothe away the tears and the pain with quiet words.

Her features were like a metamorphic blend of the rest of the family members into one. Her hair was that of Halina's, brown, curly, unruly, and even the same length almost, while her eyes were that of Papa's, penetrating and deep. The rest of her face resembled Henryk, childish and innocent-looking when sleeping, fiery and defying when angry. Her emotions were similar to Mama's and Regina's, cool and collected, even when she was deathly worried in reality, and her strong emotions were shown mainly in her eyes, not her face. Her hands…her hands were like mine. The fingers were long and skinny, the touch gentle but firm. Whenever she had the inclination, she would play the piano herself, and although many of her notes were incorrect, she just had a manner in which…they sounded as if the song should be altered just for her.

* * *

1939 was when everything began to change. The bombs started to fall. The first major ones, I was at the studio playing, and I didn't understand what was going on. At first the explosion was generally far away, and then suddenly it was closer, shaking the building and causing plaster to fall from the ceiling on to my head like snow, but my fingers kept playing the song I barely even had to look at the keys to know I was playing right. The switchboard operator tried to get me to leave, but I shook my head, confused, and he let me be, running to save his own skin. The next explosion sent dust and debris through the window, and the window between the switchboard and me imploded, and I fell down behind the piano, but still something cut my forehead. This was the point where I had to admit it was time to run. 

Home was a long way off, and there were bombs falling everywhere. When I got there, nearly two hours later, I found Angelika standing at the entrance to the building, though I didn't know how she'd got past Mama. Mama would have never let her out, even though the bombs were no longer falling. Angelika was standing there, her hands clenching the doorframe so hard that her knuckles were white, as show-white plaster still fell from the buildings nearby to nestle in her hair. Her dark green eyes were scanning the streets, and I could see the screams for me that had wanted to escape in her eyes every time the ground had shook around her. As I came into view, her breath seemed to let out.

"Wladyk!" Relief was obvious in her face as she ran forward from the relative protection of the buildings and wrapped her arms around my waist, burying her head in my chest for a moment. She was thirteen now, a teenager in the eyes of the world, but still a child to me, and I was still her protector during these war-like times. "They think you're dead. They're distraught upstairs, packing up their clothes, saying that we are leaving!" I stroked her hair vaguely for a moment, brushing away the snowy plaster while looking down into her fearful eyes, wanting me to tell her that everything would be alright, just like I had when we were younger.

"What are you doing down here? How'd you get past Mama?" I asked as I pulled her towards the door by her hand, looking around, trying to keep an eye out in case anything were to fall. "I can't believe she would let you out here willingly when there were bombs falling not that long ago." Angelika shrugged, and I knew that she'd used Mama's frazzled nerves as an advantage and slid past her out the door. Nobody tended to consciously notice Angelika, being as she was the baby of the family. Usually that would result in a person being loud, being used to have to shout to be heard, but the reverse had happened to Angelika. She had simply become used to not speaking.

As we climbed the stairs to their third-floor apartment, I could hear other tenants calling to each other, and I could see suitcases outside doorways. Why was everyone leaving? What was happening? Angelika still had a tight hold on my hand, looking at the suitcases as if they were ticking time bombs about to explode. Finally the two of them were outside the apartment, and I opened the door, walking in, pulling Angelika in behind me. Regina, who had just been walking past the door, let out a long sigh of relief.

"Mama, Wladyk is home!" Angelika quickly slid off into the background, and I saw her go off into her own room and drag out her suitcase as if she'd been packing this entire time. Smart girl. Halina, Regina and Papa were all walking every which way, packing things into suitcases, collecting up valuables, and Henryk seemed to be trying to find a radio station to listen to. Meanwhile, Mama sighed in relief and came from where she was shoving things in her own suitcase.

"Oh thank God, Wladyk." She opened her mouth to say more, then her face turned an almost deathly pale and her hand went to her throat, her eyes drawn up to my forehead, where a small stain of blood had trickled down from a tiny cut on my head. "You're wounded?" For a moment I thought she was joking, after all it didn't look much like an injury. Realising she was serious, I shook my head.

"No, no, it's only a cut…" My eyes travelled around the apartment. Papa was hurrying Angelika along, telling her to pack up her things quickly, as she was taking a snail's pace about folding up one dress and placing it neatly in the corner. However, I sensed that Angelika was buying time, not wanting to leave her dearly loved home, as I most certainly did not either. My attention was brought back to Mama, who was saying that she had been worried sick.

"I told her not to worry." Interjected Henryk from the radio, one arm slung over the chair, the other hovering over the dials that he was about to turn. "You had your papers on you. If you'd been hit by a bomb, they'd have known where to take you." Laughing lightly, obviously turning to that cruel humour he seemed to love so much, he turned back to the radio. Halina laughed lightly also, but Mama's eyes were practically bulging out of her head.

"Don't say such things, Henryk. Henryk, don't say that, God forbid…" The chaos around me continued on without a single person bothering to pause and tell me what was going on. Halina was asking after her hat, Papa was carrying his violin case around, Henryk was still fiddling with the radio, and Regina and Mama didn't seem to know what to do. Angelika was packing her suitcase slowly, eyes travelling from me to Henryk to Mama, then back down to her suitcase. Trying to get one of them to stop long enough to explain things to me, I finally concentrated on Henryk.

"They bombed us, we're off the air." Having made the naïve assumption in my confusion that Henryk was searching for the Warsaw radio station, I hadn't really thought that other stations might be giving information as to what was going on.

"Warsaw's not the only radio station." Henryk said coldly, acting as if he were personally offended by my wrong assumption. He then turned back and continued fiddling with the dials, and a tap fell on to my shoulder, accompanied by Mama's voice, telling me to pack.

"Where are we going?" Greeted with the answer that they were leaving Warsaw, I continued. "Out of Warsaw, where?"

"Haven't you heard?" Interjected Regina from where she stood packing up silverware.

"Heard what?" Angelika had stopped packing now, was listening in closely. She had not been given any information as to where they were going; the bombing had started while she was still in school. The teachers had told her as soon as the bombing had stopped to run home as fast as she could. Greeted with the information that they were leaving, but that was it, she had looked for her protector to explain things to her, but he was no where to be found, still navigating his own way home.

"Haven't you read the paper?" With the answer of no from both Angelika and I, Regina sighed in frustration and called out a request to the general area of the apartment. "Where's the paper?"

"I used it for packing." Halina said as she walked back into the room, and Regina let out a frustrated sigh, and walked past Angelika and I, who was now standing with me, obviously wanting to cling to the one person who was as clueless as her.

Finally, I gathered the information that the government had moved to Lublin and that all able-bodied men were to move across the river to set up a new line of defence. There was hardly anybody left in the building, just the woman and children. Angelika, smart child that she was, grasped my hand, knowing that I was able-bodied enough for the request to apply to me.

"I'm not going anywhere." I said finally, and was relieved when Halina also nodded her head and sat down, agreeing with him. Angelika said the same thing, crossing her arms defiantly. At thirteen, she had so much stubbornness that it was almost defiance. She stated that if nobody else was going to stay then she would stay with Halina and I.

Before the argument that ensued could really get going, Henryk interrupted them all. "Shh, shh, I think I heard something!" Everybody came and gathered around the radio that Henryk had managed to tune to BBC radio. Angelika, so young, was still grasping the concept of war. Finally, the announcement was coming in clear, though we only needed to hear the most important part, which was that Britain had declared war on Nazi Germany, and that France would soon be making a similar declaration. Poland was no longer alone.

* * *

The year progressed, and soon the decrees had begun to start. No Jew family was allowed to have more than 2000 złoty in the household, and we had 5003. The debate about where to hide the extra money was fiery, and existed mostly between Henryk and me, calling each other idiotic and stupid. Angelika had timidly interjected the idea of hiding the money under the beds, which at the age of thirteen must have seemed like a smart thing to do, but Henryk had turned his wrath on her, and she'd swiftly fallen silent, with me stepping up to defend her, resulting in another shouting match. Eventually Regina and Mama settled it and we hid the money in our violin, and the watch under the flowerpots. 

No Jew could walk in the park. Angelika had been the one to discover this one, by accident, when she had begun to walk through the park on her way home from school as she normally did, only to be manhandled by Germans and forcibly removed. The bruises on her arms from their fingers had been dark, but they did not last long and we soon discovered that she had been lucky. Many were struck across the face, beaten or even killed for breaking these decrees. Angelika, when she'd come home, had been crying uncontrollably, but calmed enough to explain to him what had happened. Then Henryk had come in, raving about the newest decrees, and we learned that there was sense behind the seemingly senseless punishment.

The list went on and soon enough some of our favourite shops and restaurants had signs in their doorways that said 'No Jews' or something of that nature. Angelika, having found that, other than going to school and sitting at home, there was very little she, as a Jew, was allowed to do, had taken to sitting at the piano during the day, plucking away, trying to master the songs that I played. Whenever I needed it (which was most of the time), she would retreat to the chair to listen to me play while she either worked on her homework or read her books.

Then we were given the regulations about the stars. It was in the newspaper, all the regulations for the size of the stars that were to brand us as Jews. That were to brand us as the unclean, the uncivilised. At first none of us wanted to wear them, flat-out refused to, even though we all knew that we had no choice. Although all the newspaper said was 'severely punished', we all knew what it meant. It meant death. Mama had made them, and we'd slid them on to our arms as if they burned us. Angelika had stared at hers for a long time, then finally slid it on, but didn't look at it again, looked over at me as if somehow I could soothe this humiliation, like I'd soothed her scraped knees what seemed like so very long ago now.

* * *

It was now the beginning of 1940, Angelika's birthday was coming up in a few months, and she would be fourteen, but the celebration was tampered by more and more decrees being put in place. There was nothing we could do to celebrate really; we could no longer afford gifts. We were not allowed to go most places anymore, but we tried to make it happy for her. Henryk even joined in, wishing her a sullen happy birthday before skulking off. The war had made him even more unpleasant to deal with at times, if that was possible. 

Angelika hadn't complained, had smiled, thanked everyone for the good wishes, then retreated to her reading, while I played the piano and worked on my composition. It was later the next night, both of us in the same spot, though now in different clothes, that Halina entered. "Have you seen this?" She said, obviously fearful. I looked up in annoyance; I was working, and didn't like to be disturbed while I was working. Angelika looked up from her book, curious, and then came forward when she saw that Halina was holding a newspaper.

"What? What is it, I'm working!" I looked at the paper in front of me, which seemed to be outlining the boundaries of something in Warsaw. Angelika closed her book and walked around to lean over my shoulder so that she could look as well. "What is this?" I finally asked, and Angelika looked to Halina waiting for an explanation. Henryk was standing in one corner, glowering, obviously angry.

"It's where they're going to put us." When Angelika and I both gave her identical expressions of confusion, she sighed and took the paper back, turning it to read the caption. "By order of the Governor of the Warsaw District, concerning the establishment of the Jewish District, there will be a district where all Jews living in Warsaw or moving to Warsaw will have to reside. Look here, all Jews living outside of the prescribed area will have to move to the Jewish District by the 31st of October…1940." Angelika's mouth had dropped open. We would have to move. I snatched the paper back from her, looking at the district that had been assigned to us.

"I-It's too small, there's 400,000 of us in Warsaw!" I complained, jabbing at the paper violently, looking up at Halina and Henryk, as if it were them that had made the decree, simply because they had delivered the news.

"Yes, it's too small, we'll never…we'll never fit!" Angelika said, waving her arm, her eyes wide. "It's impossible. After avoiding moving out of Warsaw at the beginning of the war, we're going to have to move anyway? Leave our home just to be herded like cattle to live where they want us to?" Before she could continue on this, Henryk interrupted with a snide remark that cut off her independent speech smoothly.

"No, there's only 360 000, so it'll be easy. Of _course_ we're going to have to do it, are you stupid!" Angelika fell silent, and I opened his mouth to defend her automatically, as was always the case, when we all fell silent, hearing someone crying in the next room. Mama was crying. Our argument forgotten, we all stood, and followed Halina. Mama was crying, and holding her wallet in her hand, looking at a lonely looking bank note. Angelika pushed past me and Henryk and sat next to her on the bed with Halina, holding her and trying to comfort her.

"Twenty złoty. That's all we have left. What can I buy with that?" Mama said, looking at the four of us with tearful eyes. "I am so sick of always cooking potatoes, potatoes, potatoes…" Looking down at the note in her hand again, she had sighed and replaced it in the wallet, while we had looked at each other, silent and stunned. Mama never broke down. She was always calm, always collected, the strength for the rest of us.

It was a few weeks later that somebody came to buy the piano. Angelika had sat at the bench, staring at the keys, even while the portly man had been in there, and the man had to almost forcibly push her aside so as to make sure all the keys worked. Then he'd closed it with a snap, and turned to them, offering only 2000 for it. He'd made a snide remark that I couldn't quite hear at the moment, but Henryk had yelled at him, trying to get him to leave. It had been me that had finally just said to take it. The thought of parting with my beloved piano had been heart wrenching, and watching Angelika's face as they took it away was almost more so. Food was worth more than music, as much as I hated to say it. Angelika now had had two of her joys taken away from her. Learning, when the school had no longer allowed Jews to attend, and now playing music, which left as the piano left. Now all that was left was reading, and she took that up with a passion, reading almost constantly.

Meanwhile, October 31st was approaching much faster than any of us would have ever wanted to admit…

**((Okay, I'm forcing myself to stop here because it's getting really long. Hopefully this isn't too…awful. I wasn't going to go all the way back before, but I ended up doing it anyway... So yeah. I'll keep going in the next chapter! Review Please!)) **


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